The Crucifixion
by BelleBoyd
Summary: In honor of Palm Sunday and the coming of Easter, I wrote the events of the crucifixion in the point of view of one of the women that followed Jesus.


**A/N: **In honor of Palm Sunday and the coming of Easter, I wrote the events of the crucifixion in the point of view of one of the women that followed Jesus (see Matthew 27:55 for evidence that they there at the cross). I used the stories in Matthew and Mark from the NIV version. This is a first draft; beware of mistakes (I might edit it later).

Disclaimer: I don't own the Bible, obviously.

* * *

The day had finally come. He'd told us it would, but I never believe it would be so soon. It was the day his followers have dreaded. The day that would change the world. The day that Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, would be crucified.

He had been arrested the night before, betrayed by his own disciple. When I first heard the news I was in shock. How could someone who knew him, had walked with him, had seen the miracles he has performed, how could they turn him in for 30 pieces of silver?

Then he was put on trial before Pilate. And for what? I ask myself as I stand in the crowd outside. What has he done but help us? I had hope, though. Today was the day of the Feast and one prisoner was always released. Jesus has done nothing wrong; maybe the people will let him go.

After a wait that seemed a lifetime, Pilate came out, followed by guards holding two men. One was Barabbas, a notorious murder, and the other was him. The sight of him with his hands tied behind his back, being pushed around by the soldiers, was enough to make tears well up in my eyes. Then Pilate asked the question I'd been waiting for, "Which of the two do you want me to release?"

I was stunned when the crowd replied "Barabbas!"

"What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called Christ?" Pilate asked the mass of people. The answer broke me out of my stupor. "Crucify him!" A sob rose within my throat, as all my hopes came crashing down. I didn't hear the next question Pilate asked, but the crowd's answer rang in my ears. "Crucify him!"

The soldiers broke the rope around Barabbas's wrists and set him free. What have you done? I wanted to shout out to the crowd. You just set free a murder and condemned your savior. But I found that my voice had left me. Pilate, knowing he was innocent but unable to do anything, handed Jesus over to be flogged. All the while, Jesus said not a word.

The crucifixion came later, and though I knew it'd be horrific, I could stay away. I waited with the crowd, tears silently streaming down my face. Some of the disciples were present, along with Jesus' mother, Mary, who stood not far from me, audibly sobbing.

The governor's soldiers came out of the Praetorium, leading Jesus. Seeing him almost sent me to my knees. His clothes stuck to his back, soaked in blood. Atop his head they'd placed a crown made of thorns and drilled it into his skull, sending even more blood cascading into his eyes and down his neck. He was so weak someone else was forced to carry the beam of his cross. In front of him someone carried a sign, reading "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews." Even after seeing him like this, some still yelled their approval.

When the procession reached the top of the hill they stopped. After Jesus was stripped of his clothes I could no longer remain silent and I started to weep aloud. What the clothes had covered before was now visible and the full extent of the beating he'd received could be seen. The flesh of his back hung in strips, so much had been ripped off of him with that cat of ninetails I knew had been used. So much of his skin had been ripped off of him that one could see some of the bones in his ribs, his spine, and even organs. Bruises littered what flesh was left.

Then they drove a nail through each of his wrists, one through both his feet, and pushed the cross up for all to see. The sight was not one I'd forget, nor would I ever be able to do justice to its horrors with simple descriptions.

Below him the soldiers gambled for the very clothing he had just worn. I couldn't believe it. They had just brought a man to his death and now they divided up his clothing for fun? How could they live with themselves, killing an innocent man, then disgracing him even further then they already had _for fun_? Then they sat, and just watched him struggling for each breathe that brought him closer to death.

People walked by, hurling insults at him. "If you're the Son of God, save yourself!" they mocked. Even the priests and others joined in, "Let God rescue him now, for he claims to be the Son of God. Come down from the cross." I was dumbfounded when I realized that he could have done just that but chose to suffer. He had told us before this day would come, just as it was stated in the scriptures. He had told us he was doing this to save us, to pay the price of our sins so we didn't have to. He knew he was going to suffer, but he did it willingly anyway.

Darkness fell over all the land, and after hours of being on the cross, Jesus shouted, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Even from the distance where I stood with the other women I could hear it. He carried the weight of the entire world's sin on his frail shoulders and I could only imagine the kind of pain he had to be in to feel as though God had left him. I saw his chest heave for the last time, saw his lips move in a loud cry I couldn't decipher, and cried harder as his body finally stilled. At that moment the earth shook. People were terrified and some, who had seen all that had happened, cried out "Surely he was the Son of God."

As it neared sunset, the guards made sure the two who hung next to Jesus would soon be dead, then took the three bodies down. I stumbled back home in a daze unable to form coherent thoughts.

Three days later, someone knocked on my door. As I rose to open it, I prayed good news would greet me. I had no clue God would answer with something much more than just _good_.


End file.
